Midnight in Moscow
by Dantzi Jean
Summary: What do you do when you are out of time?


Title: Midnight in Moscow
    
    Author: Dantzi Jean
    
    E-mail: phantom_lass@hotmail.com
    
    Website: http://www.geocities.com/myxfvoice
    
    Classification: X-File, MSR (sort of)
    
    Timeline: During the time of the Tunguska episode, 4th season
    
    Summary: What do you do when you are out of time?
    
    Rating: R
    
    Archive: Anywhere just make sure my name stays on it and let me now the URL 
    
    of the site.
    
    Disclaimer: Come on everyone's favorite part! Okay you all know they are not 
    
    mine. I'm just using them for my sadistic, sardonic, evil and twisted 
    
    reasons and will give them back to CC and company when I am good and ready 
    
    to.
    
    Author's Notes: This takes place mid-episode of Tunguska. This as if the 
    
    events in Terma did not take place. Warning, character death, and graphic imagery
    
    This is my first ever attempt at mythology fic so just bare with me. Thanks!
    
    Tunguska, Russia
    
    9:04 pm
    
    Mulder awoke in the large room, disoriented and unsure where he was, the 
    
    cold wire seemed to touch every inch of his skin, as he looked around him, 
    
    many other bodies of men, women, and children were within the mesh covered 
    
    tables, some unconscious most awake and moaning, one woman cried.
    
    He tried to free himself but could not find a weakening in the chain links
    
    that covered his body.
    
    He saw the man walking among the bodies. The same man, who had injected
    
    him with a toxin and took him from his cell. He was bald and wore think
    
    rimmed glasses, his expressionless face held no mercy for those he was
    
    torturing on the mesh-covered tables. He stopped and looked down on the
    
    men and women whose lives he was about to take or ruin.
    
    He felt the swab of cloth covering the small-pox scar on his left arm. 
    
    His mind raced to the case in which Scully had found the markers in the 
    
    scars, and to the boxcar he had been in one year ago, in which the bodies 
    
    that were burnt and deformed held one similarity—a smallpox scar. Were 
    
    these scars used to gather information about the individuals who bore them?
    
    To use in these insidious experiments?
    
    Screams interrupted his musing and unending questions. Screaming of the 
    
    people surrounding him. Loud, deep, resonant screams of the victims. The
    
    agony and terror that lay in the voices of those people inflamed his own
    
    terror. Then, without any warning black slime dripped onto his face. Making
    
    it difficult to breathe without inhaling the black ooze. This dripping 
    
    started coagulating forming small worm-like creatures.
    
    The worms slithered up his face, their slick bodies aiming for an opening
    
    to enter his body. He watched as the creatures crawled toward his mouth
    
    and nose, attempting to gain entry to his body. His eyes grew wide and 
    
    searching for some kind of escape from the creatures now entering on their
    
    own will into his nasal passages. They slithered and formed again into a
    
    liquid of some kind lining the membrane of his nose and eyes. They slowly
    
    took control of their host, making the body a vessel to feed from. It's life
    
    energy now being slurped and gulped to establish the new being within its
    
    conquered host.
    
    Alive, though in a trance-like state. The man's brain was no longer his 
    
    own command center. The being had now found and utilized its power to 
    
    control it for their own purposes. The beings settled into that man and 
    
    their new-found home.
    
    *             *                 *               *
    
    Capitol Hill, Senator Sorenson's office
    
    11:18 am
    
    Dana Scully sat down in the padded chair, she had become used to taking 
    
    that chair, it became like a routine that she and Mulder had unconsciously 
    
    established. AD Skinner sat to her left. Senator Sorenson had called them in
    
    to question them on the latest findings of their newest case. She listened
    
    with polite interest as the senator asked about the body that had been found
    
    outside Skinner's apartment.
    
    She did not trust Skinner, though he had helped them in the past, Scully could 
    
    not help but feel that the man was hiding something within his calm, silent 
    
    exterior. The senator then addressed the absence of her partner. She calmly 
    
    and roundly answered the senator's questions as to Mulder's absence. This man
    
    was not to be trusted, either.
    
    "Agent Mulder is in the field, endeavoring to find his own answers." She said
    
    with all the professionalism she could muster.
    
    "Where?"
    
    Her silence would save Mulder, if only for a short period of time. Her mind 
    
    flitted back to the message on her answering machine and the note Mulder had
    
    left in her e-mail box.  
    
      
    
    
    
    He had gone to Russia, he had taken Krycek with him. Taking Krycek was a 
    
    mistake; the man was a murderer and a liar. Mulder trusted him. For now, his
    
    life was in the rouge agent's hands.
    
    Anger and frustration surged within her. The passion of her partner's search
    
    had left him thinking a little irrational. He had taken a passport of government
    
    issue. Though where he got it, he would not tell her.
    
    She hated when he did this to her. The adventurous side of her wanted to be
    
    with Mulder, to find what he has found, to be a part of the treasure hunt.
    
    The protective side of her wanted to follow him and make sure his head was 
    
    on straight and that his life was without unnecessary danger. The partner in
    
    her just wanted to have the respect, and not to be excluded from the case.
    
    Whatever he had found, it didn't include her. She understood, though, Mulder
    
    needed to find and see for himself the wrongs done against him since childhood
    
    and she had always been excluded from those memories to spare Mulder further 
    
    injury and pain. It hurt, though, just the same.
    
    The meeting was over. She took the first deep breath she had first taken since
    
    the meeting had begun. She walked to the parking lot, her stiletto heels 
    
    clicking on the surface of the pavement. She walked to the car and drove to
    
    NASA Goddard Center where she was to do the examination of the infected biologist.
    
    *             *               *             *           *
    
    FBI headquarters
    
    3:23 pm
    
    She peered in the microscope at the organism found in the research biologist
    
    during the time of his examination. It resembled a cluster of organisms, they
    
    seemed to be feeding on the pineal gland, draining the gland of it's hormones
    
    and proteins, taking in the endocrindonic secretions the gland produced.
    
    The organisms appeared to be in the larval stages of development, multiplying 
    
    and growing in size. This organism acted like a cancer, destroying the brain's
    
    natural material and replacing it with it's own.
    
    Her scientific mind raced with possibilities, causes, reasons, and sources.
    
    The sickness of the pathologist occurred  when dissecting the rock specimen. 
    
    At the scene, researchers found the residual spray emanating from the rock,
    
    itself. The key was the rock. Where did it come from? What was it? Who knew 
    
    the answers to these questions? Scenarios, questions and nagging fears ran
    
    through the mind of Dana Scully. The disease had come from the sample rock.
    
    Where that rock had come from nobody really knew, only that it was not of 
    
    this world.
    
    Mulder had received information to the specimen's original location, and
    
    had found a lead in Russia. She had not heard from him since the airport
    
    when he had been on his way to Russia. Where was this pouch going? Why 
    
    did the government have it? And why if it they were such a well guarded 
    
    secrets were they spending their time of Mulder's location? Unanswered
    
    questions and fears continued their fast pace through her mind and finally,
    
    she arrived at a conclusion. She would have to go to Russia find Mulder 
    
    and then find out once and for all what's, where's and why's of this rock.
    
    Mulder had said 'source' when referring to the travel information he had
    
    received. She would just have to travel under the FBI regulatory statutes.
    
    Did the rock have something to do with the 1908 crash of the supposed 
    
    meteorite that had crashed in Tunguska, Russia? Mulder had landed in
    
    Krasnoyarsk, Russia. Then that was where she had to start looking.
    
    *            *               *              *
    
    JFK airport
    
    7:47 the next morning
    
    "Final boarding call for flight 682 at gate 35," the monotonous voice of 
    
    the PA system rang over head as Dana Scully made her way thorough the 
    
    terminal to her appointed gate. She had to get to Mulder fast. He could 
    
    already be infected with the organism, and possibly others as well. There
    
    was no known cure or treatment for this cancer/parasite. She needed to
    
    find Mulder fast and get him out of Russia. And with that final call 
    
    she boarded her flight and set in for the long journey ahead.
    
    Midnight in Moscow
    
    Somewhere in Russia
    
    11:42 pm
    
    Tired, dirty and just wanting to go home, Dana Scully sat in her hotel room
    
    and lay on the bed reviewing in her mind the events of the day. She had begun
    
    with a search of all flight records, making doubly sure that this was the 
    
    route Mulder and Krycek had taken. They had landed at 6:15 AM and had procured
    
    a ride from a delivery man to a small area called Tunguska. When she thought
    
    she had a general idea of where they were, she employed a local hackney driver
    
    to take her there the next morning. 
    
    After talking to the driver she checked into a local motel and slept for a few
    
    hours until she knew it was time to leave.
    
    Reluctantly, she rose and started to pack for roughing it in the hinterland
    
    Of Russia. She worried about Mulder but had reserves about following him. She 
    
    had nowhere near the passion he had for his work. She followed him out of a 
    
    curiosity for what they were searching for, and  he had some sort of hold her
    
    that bound her to him. The magnetic surge of power that two individuals can
    
    have on each other was really just too much for the mind to comprehend, ever
    
    to begin to understand. But there it was, in plain sight, with her and Mulder.
    
    She grabbed the backpack, holding the few possessions she thought she might 
    
    require on the journey and walked downstairs. She checked herself out of her
    
    hotel and walked to the curb headed for what she hoped was her partner.
    
    *            *              *               *           *
    
    Tunguska, Russia
    
    Mulder's cell
    
    10:11
    
    Groggy, and in pain, Mulder awoke on a hard floor instead of the black 
    
    leather couch he was so used to. He heard a man's voice in the darkness of 
    
    his cell.
    
    "How long have I been unconscious?" Mulder asked, examining a wound on his 
    
    arm. The wound was located where his small-pox vaccination scar lay. He found
    
    a small two inch laceration above the old scar tissue. The type of laceration
    
    performed for some type of biopsy.
    
    "Hours," came the unknown man's voice from the other end of the hard brick 
    
    wall.
    
    "What happened to me?" He asked as he briefly remembered the hard wire 
    
    covering his body before slipping into oblivion. He remembered nothing of 
    
    the test.
    
    "The test."
    
    "Do they do this to you too?" Came the voice from his own throat.
    
    "Yes, they do the test to everyone..." the man went on to tell Mulder why
    
    he was here, when the original rock was found, and the research done since 
    
    then on the contaminants of the rock. 
    
    A voice of curiosity made him mention Krycek, who orchestrated this scheme.
    
    For what purpose or agenda was unclear to Mulder. The man who was basically
    
    his only ally in this establishment handed him a make-shift knife. He gave 
    
    the knife a once-over and asked the man where the knife came from.
    
    "I made it--to kill myself. It took me two months," he said with a cynical 
    
    laugh, "By then I had lost desire." Revenge and death was on Mulder's mind 
    
    tonight, all he had to do was wait until morning. All that was clear in the 
    
    mind of Fox Mulder was that he had to survive, Krycek had to die and he 
    
    hoped to God that he would not be a continuing subject in the "test" these 
    
    men were conducting.
    
    *        *                *               *           *
    
    North Road, 30 miles from Tunguska forest
    
    12:13 am
    
    The man, from which Scully had received a ride and a location of Mulder and
    
    Krycek, was a very congenial man. Though he never gave her moment of silence,
    
    and felt the need to talk to her the whole way there. She was very tired but
    
    grateful to this man. But right now all she wanted was sleep.
    
    The man drove Scully through a very dense growth of trees, hundreds of years 
    
    old, from the width of the trunks. Finally, the car rolled to a stop and the 
    
    man proclaimed, in heavily accented Russian, that this was his stop and he 
    
    would go no further. Scully could read the fear in the man's eyes, she knew 
    
    he feared this forest, she couldn't help but question, as to what would make
    
    this man so terribly afraid. What dark secret was being harbored in this 
    
    forest? What had motivated her partner to come here searching for the answers
    
    to his questions?
    
    She climbed out of the truck and began to walk into the woods. The man indicated
    
    that to the south there was an "establishment" that might have taken Mulder and
    
    Krycek.
    
    She trudged through the woods and mud. It must have recently rained in this area,
    
    judging from the moisture gathered in the dirt and plants. The area was beautiful
    
    and green, but something dark resided here. Something not natural.
    
    She walked for about a mile and a half, stopping every few seconds trying to
    
    get her bearings and find out where she was. During this trek, she had a lot
    
    of time to think. She wondered why this thing, whatever it was, was crucial
    
    enough to kill for.
    
    Mulder ran through her mind, as well. Her partner was a brilliant man, but he
    
    has placed himself in danger for more then one stupid scheme in his career. He
    
    was an impossible, insufferable man, and yet she followed him. A familiar idiom
    
    her grandmother used to say ran through her mind. 'Who is more the idiot? The
    
    idiot, or the idiot that follows the idiot?' She laughed in spite of herself
    
    and continued her trek through the terrain of Russia. She would follow Mulder
    
    to the ends of the earth, if need be. His quest had not only become her life,
    
    but her love as well.
    
    She topped a ridge, and came to a clearing. She brought out her night vision
    
    glasses and peered through the night. She saw about seven armed guards 
    
    standing around some sort of perimeter. She had come upon some sort of prison
    
    or mining camp. She saw a few men on horseback riding out the electrified gates.
    
    Apparently, whoever these men were, they did not want whoever was in there to
    
    become free. Deep down, inside herself, she knew that Mulder was somewhere 
    
    within the walls of this camp, and in pain.
    
    She placed the glasses inside her pack and began moving slowly outside the 
    
    gates of the camp. She walked until she found what she was looking for. 
    
    A deep impression in the ground. A hole.
    
    From what she could tell of the shoe prints the way the dirt still appeared
    
    loose, she determined that the hole was dug about 48 hours ago and though 
    
    the rain had obscured and filled in the hole a little it was still visible.
    
    She clawed through the mud, not minding the dirt that accumulated on her hands.
    
    Mulder was here, she was certain of it. Why he was here, though, was a 
    
    complete mystery to her. She dug until the hole was large enough to 
    
    encompass her small frame, then she pulled herself through the opening.
    
    She brushed the dirt from her pants and hands. And stood to get a better
    
    look, and find out where she was. There was about another mile to the 
    
    buildings where she presumed the prisoners were housed. She wanted to get a 
    
    better look at the grounds before maneuvering a rescue attempt.
    
    She walked to the east side of the "establishment". She had been fortunate
    
    enough to not been detected by any of the guards or men that canvassed.
    
    Then she heard the sound of horses neighing, and she turned around to see
    
    a few guards, she ducked low into the bushes to escape their awareness. 
    
    She watched them from her hiding place, by the sound of their voices the
    
    guards were off duty, and having fun. They seemed to be teasing one another,
    
    but then she noticed the other men standing about the horses, but these men
    
    did not look like guards.
    
    The men had the bent-over postures and expressions of those who had worked
    
    strenuously for the most part of their lives. Oppression and sadness hung 
    
    in the air like a tangible thing. She knew instantly that these men were 
    
    the prisoners and that the guards who appeared to be teasing one another 
    
    were really tormenting the prisoners. Whatever that was here, these men 
    
    required a multitude of slave laborers to carry out the agenda for which it
    
    was used. 
    
    She walked, cautiously through the brush and almost fell when the ground took
    
    a sharp curve downward into a make-shift cliff. She backed up a few steps and
    
    glanced downward toward fissure into which she had almost fallen.
    
    "Oh my God." She breathed when she saw that, it was a crevice that fell about
    
    50 feet downward.
    
    She walked along the outer rim of the crevice and it appeared to be bowl shaped
    
    and rounded. She looked at the surrounding shrubbery and observed that all the
    
    trees had been flattened and some pulled from the ground. Of course, she thought
    
    to herself, of the meteorite that hit in the middle of Tunguska forest. This was
    
    the impression left by that meteor. Mulder had found that that rock specimen was
    
    part of the meteor that had fallen and impacted with earth over 80 years ago. 
    
    But where was that rock today? And most importantly, what had caused men to set '
    
    up a prison labor camp around the impression?
    
    Mulder, she was sure, held the answers to these questions. But first she had to
    
    find him and then get him out of this hell hole and find out what was going on here.
    
    Midnight in Moscow
    
    Tunguska forest
    
    2:00 am
    
    Globs of encrusted dirt and mud clung to her boots, slowing her progress 
    
    through the forest. Scully took a cautious glance behind her, making sure 
    
    she was not being followed. She glanced at the horizon, dawn was just a few
    
    hours away.
    
    As she came closer to the prisoner's quarters, she heard the drunken ribaldry
    
    of the guards, probably over-indulging on duty. She rounded the corner of
    
    the brick structure and the shouting lessened. She crept against the wall
    
    and spied a few small windows near the ground. She dropped to the ground
    
    and peered through the closest of the windows and sure enough one of the
    
    prisoners was asleep on the floor.
    
    She gauged the window to be maybe a foot length-wise and knew she could
    
    not possibly fit through one of them. She stood and looked at the wall again.
    
    More windows lined the top of the wall. She walked and looked into each of
    
    the bottom windows until she came to what she was searching for--Mulder.
    
    He was awake and staring at something shinny in the darkness of his cell.
    
    He was in the far corner and difficult to see. She made out his shape, 
    
    dirty and ragged. He looked in sore need of a shower and a shave. He was 
    
    thin and pale, possibly sick. She needed to get him out of here.
    
    "Mulder?" She said making sure her voice could not be heard above the 
    
    laughing and shouting of the guards. It was apparently too quiet for there 
    
    was no response from the man within the cell. "Mulder!" She cried a little 
    
    more urgently. She detected a small movement in the cell. "Mulder." she 
    
    called again.
    
    "Scully? Is that you? What are you doing here?" He responded to her crouched
    
    form near the tiny window.
    
    "Mulder? Are you okay?" She asked making a mental inventory of his injuries
    
    once she had enough light to see him.
    
    "I don't know, I'm weak and they've infected me with some kind of virus.
    
    How did you find me?" 
    
    "I'm going to get you out of here, Mulder." She said with an air of finality
    
    and then was gone.
    
    *         *          *               *
    
    He sat there still not believing what she had done. She had followed him to
    
    this hell hole. Why?  She had disappeared from the window about ten minutes 
    
    ago. Had she been captured? Her small form was barely recognizable when she
    
    had come up to his window. That woman still amazed him. She would not let 
    
    anything stand in her way. Why had she done this?
    
    He heard the shuffle of feet along the corridor outside his cell. He wondered
    
    if it was guard, or if Scully had actually found a way in here. Then he heard
    
    her voice at the wooden door. "Mulder," she whispered.
    
    "Yeah, you okay? Did you see any guards coming down the hall?"
    
    "No, most of them are passed out in the officer's quarters. If one of them is
    
    stable enough to walk, let alone ride a horse by daylight I'll be greatly 
    
    surprised," she said wryly.
    
    He smiled in spite of himself. Oh, Scully how you do amaze me so, he thought.
    
    He listened as she picked the lock at his door, a little trick he had taught
    
    her. Hurry up, Scully, we have to get out of here! The loud click that 
    
    resounded from the opened lock told him he was free.
    
    He quickly opened the wooden door and cautiously stepped outside, making sure
    
    nobody was within distance of noticing his escape. Scully stepped around him,
    
    protecting him with her body. Which was an absurd notion, but she did it out
    
    of a protective instinct, which she had harbored for him since the start of
    
    his experiences in his search to find the TRUTH.
    
    *         *            *          *
    
    Mulder and Scully ran to the exit around the corner but their steps quickly
    
    ceased when a guard shouted in crude Russian. He carried a large automatic 
    
    rifle at his side and had it pointed straight at Mulder's head.
    
    Scully did not anticipate the guard or his companions, and was surprised to
    
    find that any of them were able to walk. The guard reached out and touched
    
    Scully's hair and softly caressed her face. He said something to one of the
    
    other guards and they laughed at his comment. Scully could smell the alcohol
    
    on his breath and could see the blurriness of his eyes. The man was definitely
    
    drunk. She glanced at Mulder who still held his hands in the air. His nostrils
    
    flared with anger and his breathing came in ragged breaths. He swayed a little
    
    and Scully noticed exactly how weak he really was.
    
    "My, aren't you a pretty one?" The guard said, in thickly accented English.
    
    "What do you think boys? Shall we have a go with her?" He then took a glance
    
    at Mulder and it apparently did not register to the drunken guard that Mulder
    
    was a prisoner. "You can have her too, if you want." This seemed to anger 
    
    Mulder even further. His arm twitched as if to hit the guard, but he thought
    
    better of the action, and it remained where it was.
    
    The guard did not notice the anger in Mulder's expression and from his stance
    
    Scully could tell it was keeping every ounce of human willpower he possessed
    
    to keep from hitting the guard.
    
    Scully stared at the guard, who still continued to caress her face. The guard's
    
    hand then lowered to her breast, pinching the nipple with brute force. Scully 
    
    did not move during this phase but when she saw the man was thoroughly saturated
    
    with drink and his mind was elsewhere on her anatomy, she sharply brought her knee
    
    into his crotch.
    
    The force of the blow took the guard by surprise. He rolled his eyes back into
    
    his head and clutched that part of his anatomy that was affected by the woman's
    
    sharp assault. He made a pathetic squealing noise and went down to his knees on
    
    the floor trying to gather enough breath to moan.
    
    Mulder had taken the opportunity of the diversion and had already knocked out
    
    one of the other men. Scully pulled her weapon from her hip holster and pointed
    
    it directly and the remaining guard's head.
    
    "What is this camp?" She asked. Needing answers from this man Scully thought of
    
    the only way she knew how--intimidation.
    
    The guard weakly answered the woman, "A mining camp."
    
    "Mining, for what?"
    
    "The rock."
    
    "Why is this rock worth taking innocent life to be used as slave labor?"
    
    "I d-don't know...I only guard the prisoners. They don't tell us why they are
    
    here," he answered meekly.
    
    Through this exchange Mulder was tying the guard's hands behind his head and
    
    to a pipe on the wall of the prison.
    
    "Where can we go?" The question was vague but the guard understood the question
    
    well enough for he answered.
    
    "The Trans-Siberian, there is a station about 10 miles from here."
    
    Satisfied with the answerers received, Scully nodded to Mulder, who then
    
    Promptly backhanded the young guard with the hilt of his gun, which knocked
    
    the poor soldier into unconsciousness.
    
    Mulder threw Scully a look that said, 'Now what?' She nodded toward the exit
    
    of the brick building and without words they headed for the door which led
    
    to freedom.
    
    Knowing now where they were going and how to get there, Mulder and Scully ran
    
    pell-mell to the gate where Scully had dug the hole only an hour ago. Mulder
    
    grunted when his clothing was caught on the wire of the fence. Scully, who
    
    was ahead of him stopped dead in her tracks to help her partner. It would be
    
    no time at all until whoever was in charge of this place, discovered the bodies
    
    of the three guards or they awoke and had the sense to figure out what was going on.
    
    "Go ahead, we have to keep moving." he said as she tried to assist him from
    
    the grasp of the fence. A few seconds later he freed himself of the annoying 
    
    snare and ran with his partner through the forest headed for the Trans-Siberian
    
    which went eventually, to Moscow and the American Embassy, and then home.
    
    *            *               *            *
    
    Tunguska Russia
    
    Same time
    
    Within the labyrinth of the camp
    
    Alex Krycek knew that Mulder would escape he was just sitting around 
    
    imagining how he might do it. That was the inventive part about Mulder. 
    
    That, and the fact that he never seemed to disappoint the expectations
    
    set by the men seeking to destroy him. Krycek threw Mulder into this
    
    situation. Mulder was his little chess piece. All you had to do was put
    
    him on the board and circumstances would set him in the right place at
    
    the right time. A finally, checkmate!
    
    Krycek never imagined that Mulder's red-headed skeptic of a partner 
    
    would come chasing after him. Krycek never paid much attention to her, 
    
    Mulder was the interesting one. She had somehow managed to escape 
    
    detection. He was sure, as he watched her enter the camp, that she
    
    would never make it to the impression of the rock.
    
    He had seen what length Mulder would go for her, but it surprised him 
    
    that she would do the same. Those two are a rare breed. Though destined
    
    to remain apart, they managed to stay together.
    
    Krycek would let them go until morning; he would play chess one more 
    
    time, maybe this time would be the last.
    
    Midnight in Moscow
    
    Tunguska forest
    
    4:00 am
    
    Mulder was weak from the strenuous work forced on him in the camp, and 
    
    a lack of sufficient nutrition. He barely showed his weakness, but Scully 
    
    could see he was tiring and fast. She guessed by the surrounding area that 
    
    they were heading in the right direction and were about half way there. 
    
    Only 5 more miles to go. If they could get that far they could make it
    
    back home.
    
    She stopped and waited for Mulder to catch his breath, they really could
    
    not afford the luxury of stopping, the guards they had assaulted would 
    
    either, wake up, or be found in the hallway of the prison.
    
    Mulder slumped down onto a nearby boulder and sat, breathing heavily. 
    
    He rose a few minuets later and nodded in the direction they had been 
    
    following, indicating that rest time was over and they needed to be on the 
    
    move again. She cast a glance at the surrounding area and rose to follow
    
    her partner into the Russian wilderness.
    
    *         *         *           *         *          *
    
    Slowly, bit by bit, the unconscious guard made his way into consciousness. 
    
    He awoke from the alcohol induced pain in his head. How the hell did he end
    
    up on the floor? He thought, as he stood and looked around him. His movements
    
    ceased when a sharp pain in his groin focused his attention elsewhere. As
    
    the spasm of pain eased, he slowly moved to take a step again and moved,
    
    but he was still slow and stiff.
    
    The guard looked over to the corner and noticed his friend Ivan Tratskivski 
    
    lying on the ground with his hands tied behind his head on the wall. His 
    
    head was lolled to the side and his legs were spread-eagle on the cement 
    
    floor of the prison.
    
    "Ivan, man wake up," he said nudging his friend's shoulder. Ivan bolted to
    
    attention, surprised by the suddenness of his waking.
    
    "W-w-what?" Ivan said groggily.
    
    "What happened? How did you get like this? And how the hell did I end up on
    
    the floor?" He asked as he started untying his friend's bonds.
    
    "You don't remember, huh? You took an apparent interest in a woman who at
    
    the time was helping an escaped prisoner, but of course nobody noticed this
    
    until she whipped out her gun and pointed it at my head." He said a little
    
    ruefully.
    
    "Where did they go?"
    
    "They asked me how to get out of here, I directed them to the train station
    
    a few miles from here."
    
    "Do you know how she got in here?"
    
    "I don't know, but she was part of some government agency, the gun at my head
    
    was US government issue." Ivan said, standing up and rubbing his wrists, trying
    
    to let the circulation of blood flow through them once more.
    
    "The prisoner she took was in special care of Comarade Krycek. He has to know
    
    about this."
    
    The two officers trudged down to the office of their superior to tell him of 
    
    the escaped prisoner, leaving behind their third companion, who was still 
    
    lying on the floor unconscious.
    
    *          *               *              *           *
    
    Tunguska train station
    
    5:30 am
    
    Mulder and Scully had made it to the railroad station just as the sun 
    
    was coming up above the Russian horizon. They gained passage to Moscow
    
    with government money.
    
    Mulder was weak from the wounds on his arms and from exhaustion he had
    
    suffered in the camp. They shared a single cabin on the train. Mostly,
    
    for privacy, and for the fact that they would stand out less if only
    
    one cabin was being used.
    
    Scully glanced at Mulder, who had taken the bed in the cabin and had 
    
    fallen asleep as soon as their passage was taken care of. He was pale
    
    and deathly thin. She must remember to make him eat something when he
    
    awoke. She took this time to check Mulder for wounds or abrasions. She 
    
    carefully stripped him and folded his clothes in a pile next to the bed.
    
    His fist was clenched tightly around an object. She slowly opened his 
    
    hand, and was surprised when her gaze fell upon a home-made knife in
    
    his grasp. She looked at his face, still relaxed in sleep and she 
    
    removed the small knife and laid it in the pile with his clothes. He
    
    had a fever and he might be also sporting an infection on that arm. For
    
    now he slept; rest in the midst of a terrible nightmare. When they
    
    reached Moscow, the nightmare would end and life, as it was, could
    
    resume. But only when they reached Moscow.
    
    *        *          *             *         *
    
    Alex Krycek followed the two agents as closely as he could, without 
    
    being detected. He lost them during the day, when stopping to catch
    
    his breath and gain his bearings, he came upon a group of forest men.
    
    He looked from one cold face to another. They were simple men, men who, 
    
    at one time or another, had families and jobs of their own. They looked
    
    at this newcomer with suspicion and mistrust. He looked at them and 
    
    instantly ascertained that they could help him.
    
    He had all the men convinced that he was a poor American tourist who had
    
    wandered from a tourist group and was lost in the forest, when a group of 
    
    men from the prison camp seized him and charged him with spying for the
    
    Americans.
    
    The leader of this small band of men quickly ran his eyes over Krycek's
    
    Body.  He did not notice any amount of bodily torture, which he knew the
    
    men of the camp inflicted upon the subjects of their tests. 
    
    After convincing the men that he was indeed an American tourist and his 
    
    story was the truth, he sat, enjoyed a rough dinner, and warmed himself
    
    by the fire. It was not until after this dinner that he noticed that all
    
    of the men that he had come upon, young and old alike, were missing 
    
    something--their left arm.
    
    Mulder and Scully would not get very far, he quickly assured himself. 
    
    Mulder was lame, and Krycek knew that he was going to be very sick—on
    
    the edge of death. He had made sure to order that particular test for
    
    his pawn.
    
    Scully was the other problem. Mulder was her little red button and all
    
    he had to do was push it too far and then, boom, an explosion. Scully
    
    had rescued her partner from the vise-like grip of these Russians, and 
    
    succeeded, much to the surprise of anyone who knew about it. That little 
    
    red-head could go a long way when her life's love was at risk. Yes, he
    
    knew that she loved her partner. Sometimes it seemed too easy, and yet
    
    anyone who got near those two, died in very compromising circumstances.
    
    Krycek vowed that he would not do that to himself. He had to look out
    
    for himself, and that meant not getting himself killed.
    
    Before he knew what his next thought was, Krycek was next to the fire, 
    
    sleeping soundly. He awoke to a heavy weight on his body and his eyes 
    
    flashed open to see the leader of the one-armed bandits, coming toward
    
    him with something that glowed bright red against the blackness of the
    
    night sky.
    
    The heat was strong enough for him to feel away from the blade. It 
    
    radiated from the blade of the knife that was heading for him. He 
    
    struggled against the men who held him to the Russian terrain. Fright
    
    poured out if him and formed a puddle next to him on the ground.
    
    "No...No!!" he screamed. 
    
    No one, of the mob of bandits, came to his rescue. His cries fell short
    
    of the ears of any who might give a damn.
    
    He saw the crude blade for only an instant before it hit his skin. 
    
    Light and dark spots danced in the back of his mind, as his seeing eyes 
    
    fixed upon a single star in the night sky and just felt. Then white, hot 
    
    searing pain ripped through him. He screamed as if the God above had no 
    
    mercy upon his tortured body. Over and over again, thrust and slice came
    
    the noise and feel of the blade ripping delicate flesh. No other sense
    
    registered in his tortured mind. The feel of the men gripping his appendages 
    
    and the ripping pain of the sharp pain in his upper torso. He heard the 
    
    blade hit bone and felt the crack and break of it. 
    
    The blade had sliced cleanly through, severing the arm from the host
    
    from which it originated. The pain never seemed to stop, he must have
    
    fainted half-way through because he was doused with water and when
    
    struggling to escape his tormentors the pain began again, fresh with
    
    new and hard thrusts. If this is death, let it be quick. He thought as
    
    the pain started again. He no longer had any coherent thought past
    
    the pain in his arm and then... darkness.
    
    *          *            *             *             *
    
    Living a life where no soul can be trusted, is a hard and difficult
    
    life. This man has lived this life and continues to live in it.
    
    Surrounding himself with those who hold not trust in his eyes. Only
    
    the trust of his own person could he hold, and even that was not
    
    absolute.
    
    Not one detail could escape this man's notice. If any of the pieces are 
    
    missing from the puzzle, many lives could be lost. Ironic, that this man 
    
    could consider the lives of many, when in the mundane push and pull of
    
    life, he trusted not one of the persons he is trying to protect.
    
    He saw a spark of brilliance in the young man he had employed. But, as 
    
    always, he was not to be trusted. Giving this young man small powers,
    
    had made that spark glow into a bright ember. The man must be careful, 
    
    the young man knew not the power of the knowledge he held, or could
    
    posses in the future. He spied the threat of betrayal on the young man's
    
    shoulder.
    
    The last communication he had received told that, the patient is sick 
    
    and the doctor has come to heal. Coding letters had always been much
    
    easier in this man's line of work. It saves time as well as buys it.
    
    The message meant that the Mulder's partner has rescued him out of
    
    Russian hands.
    
    The man had meant the union of those particular individuals to act as
    
    a virus, killing the healthy cells of progress. In effect, killing the
    
    X-files. The virus, he had meant was really a vaccine against it in 
    
    disguise. Still, watching had proven to be an amusing and prideful 
    
    experience over the years.
    
    He had taken the necessary precautions to make sure that his virus was 
    
    effective now, Mulder and Scully could not leave Russia. Given time, 
    
    Mulder would learn to utilize the power he would have.  Not yet, but 
    
    with a little push and a little influence, Mulder could know everything
    
    he was thirsting for, all in just one drop of the well of knowledge.
    
    The young man had failed, and though he did not realize it. The young 
    
    man's success would be entirely dependent on one he never knew of. 
    
    The other would not fail, he was sure.
    
    Midnight in Moscow
    
    Somewhere in Russia
    
    Mulder slept through most of the next day, only tossing and turning 
    
    when the small bed would not accommodate his 6 foot length. On the 
    
    evening of the second day, he awoke. It took him a few minutes to 
    
    take in his surroundings and figure out where he was and how had come
    
    to be there.
    
    Scully, he remembered, had taken him away from the hellish prison camp. 
    
    She had come after him and his foolish crusade. He knew he did not deserve 
    
    so worthy a person in his life. Scully was really too much for him at times 
    
    and, at those times was when he pushed her away. He pushed, for her own 
    
    protection. At the thought of his knight in shining armor, he quickly 
    
    scanned the room, assessing the fact that she was nowhere to be seen. His 
    
    mind raced into panic mode, and he made a move to stand. He felt a little 
    
    light-headed and a trifle sick, he allowed himself to regain his sense of 
    
    balance before looking again at the cabin window.
    
    As he rose his head, he spied Scully walking, through the throng of 
    
    passengers, toward the cabin with a tray of food in her hands. His
    
    stomach grumbled in protest, at the thought of food. The sight of 
    
    the delicious morsels on the tray made his mouth water, but a week
    
    without food could do a number on one's stomach. He lay back down on
    
    the bed, grateful he did not have to stand any longer. Scully opened
    
    the cabin door to discover a very alive, very awake Mulder staring at
    
    her.
    
    "You're awake," she stated, placing the tray on the bedside table and 
    
    coming over to inspect him.
    
    "How long have I been out?" He asked, as she smoothed his hair away from 
    
    his forehead, feeling it for any sign of the fever she had seen before.
    
    It was a little too warm, but that was to be expected.
    
    "About 36 hours. You were exhausted and running a fever." She calmly 
    
    moved about the cabin arranging the food on the tray. "You are to eat
    
    all of this, you are suffering from acute malnutrition." Scully said
    
    in her most doctor-like tone.
    
    He nodded, consenting, and sat up in the bed as she sat beside him to 
    
    help him eat.
    
    "So, are you going to tell me how you ended up in that prison camp in 
    
    the middle of nowhere, Russia?" She asked, after a while.
    
    Remembering his mission, Mulder grew excited to tell her the story, 
    
    like a little boy telling his mother how he had received a black eye
    
    on the playground.
    
    "It was there, Scully. The rock that crashed there in 1908, left some
    
    trace evidence of a virus or pathogen. After a few of the geologists
    
    who discovered the rock, had died, they thought it was a local transient
    
    who was responsible for the deaths. Upon examination, they discovered
    
    evidence of a pathogen. It placed the affected into suspended animation
    
    or a comatose state until further use to the virus.
    
    "The camp was established to learn more about it, to infect some with
    
    the virus and gage it's effects on the body. They did it to me, Scully."
    
    He said indicating to his present state of affairs. "The small-pox scar
    
    is the identification key, to know the effect on a particular subject."
    
    He explained.
    
    Scully looked at him with interest and with the look of a mother with a 
    
    wayward son.
    
    "Why, Russia?" she asked peering at the wound on his left arm.
    
    "The diplomatic pouch, which started the whole charade, was to be sent 
    
    to that prison," he added, ruefully. "They are trying to bury it, Scully. 
    
    They don't want that rock, or what it contains to be found!" He had to 
    
    convince her, otherwise all was lost and all they had been investigating 
    
    would turn into a case of mistaken identity.
    
    "Mulder, whatever is in that rock, it's possibly in you, as well. The 
    
    biologist I examined, has a parasitic organism growing and feeding off
    
    the enzymes produced by the pineal gland. If you were exposed to that
    
    same virus or parasite, it could have serious consequences. We don't
    
    know what this substance or life-form is capable of. You need medical
    
    attention the minute you get off this train," she reasoned. "We can go
    
    to the American Consulate in Moscow and tell them all that is going on
    
    here. For now...you need to rest." She said effectively ending the discussion.
    
    *         *             *            *            *
    
    The other spied the man and woman talking. The two made an impressive
    
    pair, and a cute couple, had they been one. At the thought of the two
    
    in the small train car becoming or already being a couple, jealousy
    
    surged through the other. She watched the close proximity of the two
    
    agents, how the woman's hand brushed along the man's forehead and upper
    
    arm, how they spoke with their heads bent toward each other's.
    
    The other wanted to tear at the woman's face and replace the woman's
    
    hand with her own.  The other gave herself a shake, she could not allow
    
    personal feelings to get in the way of her mission. The other had a job
    
    to do and she needed it to succeed, no matter how much it might pain her.
    
    *      *          *             *            *
    
    Dana Scully sat across from her partner, Fox Mulder. She felt her own 
    
    fatigue gaining it's fast steady pace on her body. She realized that
    
    she had not slept in over 76 hours. She glanced at the clock face on
    
    the opposite wall of the cabin, there was at least 15 hours left on 
    
    the train.
    
    She cast her partner a glance and found him in deep thought. She 
    
    examined him with her eyes, a habit she gotten into during their many
    
    years of working together.
    
    When she had examined him, she had noticed a small pink scar over the
    
    long-healed scar of a small-pox inoculation. It appeared as if an
    
    incision was made in the surrounding tissue, and partly, on the scar 
    
    itself. 
    
    Mulder was dirty and tired from his confinement, but still a splendid
    
    Specimen of manhood. His rakish hair stood out from his head, proof of
    
    his continuously running his hands through it, a sure sign of mental
    
    fatigue. His nose, long and aristocratic, showed signs of his battle-
    
    worn years with the bureau. The few lines around his eyes, showed the
    
    toll of the stress of the last few days. As she contemplated his looks
    
    and physical flaws, she knew that she would follow this man to the ends
    
    of the earth.
    
    She felt the weariness in her bones, sinking through her skin. She turned
    
    over and faced the wall of the cabin and fell into a dreamless and much 
    
    needed sleep. 
    
    Mulder stood, growing restless in the small space the cabin provided for
    
    him and his partner. The nausea of his earlier encounter with standing, 
    
    not returning to him made him feel reckless. He paced the small cabin for
    
    a time and then grew bored. He acted very much like the caged animal, of
    
    which he felt.
    
    He stalked to the cabin door and swung it wide open with the satisfaction
    
    of a decision made. He was an escaped fugitive from a Russian prison camp,
    
    and in a world where his credentials didn't mean anything to anyone. 
    
    Trapped, he felt trapped.
    
    He paced the train car, his mind jumping from one theory to the next. He
    
    saw a sea of faces--faces he didn't know and didn't care to. He pivoted
    
    on his right foot, absorbed in thought. Mulder looked up, for a second, 
    
    and saw a flash of a face. He turned his head in the direction of the face.
    
    He peered into the car ahead, he saw someone, but not the someone he had 
    
    thought.
    
    Sitting in a chair about half-way between his car and the next car was
    
    One of the guards from the Russian prison. The guard was in his late 
    
    twenties. He was in civilian clothing, obviously trying not to be noticed.
    
    With a practiced eye, Mulder surveyed the younger man, a small bulge 
    
    could be seen on the man's lower leg. Mulder guessed the weapon to be a
    
    small-caliber automatic. From the way the man surveyed the small train
    
    cabin, Mulder guessed he was not alone. Could they be looking for him?
    
    Who were they working for?
    
    Mulder managed to duck out of the man's sight range, when the guard
    
    turned his head. Slowly, Mulder stood and looked, again, into the
    
    small compartment. The guard's companion had now joined him. Mulder
    
    had to get to Scully. He didn't know how many more of these men were
    
    on the train, but he knew that he and Scully had to get off of it.
    
    He pivoted sharply on his heel, only to feel a sharp stab of pain 
    
    ricochet through his body, reminding him that he was still injured.
    
    He grabbed the railing along the side of the train to keep from 
    
    falling on the floor. Scully was his first and only thought, at that
    
    moment. He jogged through the myriad of cars and cabins to reach
    
    his destination.
    
    He threw open the door to the cabin reserved for Scully and himself, to 
    
    find Scully sleeping soundly on one of the small cabin beds. Mulder stopped 
    
    and looked back in the direction from which he had come. Mulder knew that 
    
    the men had not seen him, still he felt the need for escape. He looked at 
    
    Scully and considered leaving her here, after all they didn't know who she 
    
    was and she was in more danger with him then without him. In a second, he 
    
    pushed the thought away. He couldn't do that to her--he just couldn't. Fox 
    
    Mulder sat opposite his partner, weapon in hand and watched--watched for the 
    
    men of which he was escaping, watched his partner sleeping soundly not five
    
    feet away from him. Mulder felt helpless, but that was all he could do at 
    
    that moment--watch.
    
    *               *                  *              *
    
    The thing knew he was being watched. He could feel the eyes of the man 
    
    he sought like a spider making its way slowly, inch by inch up the base
    
    of its neck.
    
    The host from which the thing's newly acquired mobility came was an 
    
    unusual source. Everyone around the thing was trying to kill it. To
    
    stamp out its existence like a dead bug. The thing could not let that
    
    happen. The thing's mate joined it, and stood by it's side. Not 
    
    acknowledging anything, just knowing. The thing must wait--wait for an
    
    appropriate time to extinguish the life, which threatened its very
    
    existence. Only then, could the thing live in peace.
    
    Midnight in Moscow
    
    Scully woke to Mulder's gentle nudging. The train was no longer 
    
    moving, was the first thing she noticed, the second, being that
    
    Mulder looked terrible. The stresses of the trip had taken their
    
    tool on him. His eyes were strained and small; dark circles were
    
    forming under them. She noticed the small stoop in his posture,
    
    when he walked; a sign of fatigue. She also knew that she did not
    
    look much better, but she was also in perfect health. Mulder, on
    
    the other hand, had suffered from malnutrition and medical experimentation.
    
    "Scully, we're here," he whispered in her ear and shook her shoulder. 
    
    "We need to move." His movements were fast and urgent, attesting to
    
    the fact that there was need for alarm.
    
    "Mulder? What is it?" she asked sensing his need for urgency.
    
    "We're being followed."
    
    "By whom?"
    
    Instead of words he nodded toward the other end of the train car. She 
    
    glanced in the direction in which he indicated, and saw what he meant.
    
    Two men, in civilian clothing were slowly scanning the train and its 
    
    inhabitants, presumably for them. She recognized one of the men as a 
    
    guard from the prison, he had been a companion of the two guards Mulder
    
    and she had assaulted.
    
    What was strange was that when she had last seen guard she would have
    
    sworn his eyes were a deep shade of blue, and now they had turned to
    
    a brown, almost black color.
    
    Scully then looked at Mulder and understood his need for urgency and 
    
    escape. She nodded and quickly moved about the cabin, readying to exit
    
    the train. They had brought no luggage, save Scully's pack. And with
    
    that they exited the train hopefully, leaving behind this nightmare.
    
    Mulder woke his partner and prepared to get off the train, a restless 
    
    night had not hampered his need for escape. Mulder watched the two guards 
    
    until the steward had told him that their stop was coming shortly, then
    
    the guards had moved. The two men were slowly making their way closer
    
    to the cabin where he and Scully resided.
    
    He did not notice earlier, when he had seen the guard, but he noticed 
    
    Now, that his eyes were dark and black. Mulder had seen that look before.
    
    He didn't know exactly what had happened to the guard, but the virus was
    
    inside of him. The life-form created by the virus had somehow taken control
    
    of his body, and was using it for mobility. These men were not guards
    
    looking for an escaped fugitive, but looking for a man who threatened
    
    their existence. They had more at stake then their jobs. He needed to
    
    get away from them as fast as he could, and Scully with him.
    
    *             *              *             *             *
    
    The other was prepared to move, Moscow was the agents' final step in 
    
    their journey. She knew they were going to try to contact the American 
    
    Embassy.
    
    A miniature Space Race was happening, between the men the other worked 
    
    for, and the Russian scientists. Despite the fact that they were political
    
    allies, they were enemies in the name of the project-which must be protected
    
    at all costs. Mulder, the man the other was hired to watch, could unlock
    
    the long-held, dearly-kept secrets, her job was to make sure that didn't
    
    happen. Mulder and Scully could _not_ make it to the American Embassy.
    
    The other, and the men she worked for, could not risk exposure. Now,
    
    Mulder, the man which had dedicated himself to finding the proof of
    
    the existence of the project and its guardians, had become all the
    
    evidence he would ever need. They _could_ risk the jihad for truth, the
    
    deed would cause, but not exposure--that never could happen. The
    
    other steeled herself for the performance she was about to put on for
    
    the men she was to work with. She cast a last glance at the man and
    
    the woman who could change and destroy something so tenuously held
    
    in a grasp of desperation.
    
    She walked to where she knew the thing would be waiting. She saw it, or 
    
    rather its host. A man, she knew. The thing's host was a prison guard
    
    from the camp. She looked over the thing's choice in a host and then her
    
    eyes traveled up to its face. She saw the eyes of the thing and her breath
    
    was robbed from her body, black and alive, the thing's eyes seemed to move
    
    of their own volition. The oil of the thing's existence was shown in those 
    
    black, murky depths.
    
    She realized she was staring at the thing and came to her senses. She 
    
    held out her hand, knowing what was coming forth. The thing placed in
    
    her hand a syringe filled with black liquid. The virus, genetically
    
    mutated to bring about certain death. It was peril for the thing to
    
    carry this as it could destroy it, as well. The other knew her job
    
    and was expected to perform it with perfection. She must continue
    
    with a plan that contradicted everything she had ever held dear, and
    
    do what she must for survival.
    
    *         *              *              *              *
    
    The thing registered the being as a fellow conspirator. The thing did 
    
    not trust, even those who have been charged with the continuation of
    
    its race. Within its host, the thing moved languidly through the throngs 
    
    of beings escaping the moving object. Beings served as hosts, and though 
    
    peculiar, hosts is all they would ever be. This being, it knew, could
    
    never be controlled by one of his kind, for it was completely off limits,
    
    it was to help him, to carry out its mission with him and for him, so that
    
    they could survive.
    
    The thing approached the being with whom it was told to co-operate. The 
    
    being's face was stoic, and female. The beings came in two genders, 
    
    personally, the thing preferred the male beings, they made far better
    
    hosts. 
    
    The being slowly looked up and down the thing's host, assessing it's choice. 
    
    A sardonic smile lifted the beings lips. The thing stared back at the being. 
    
    Her gaze swept over it's host until she reached it's face and then it's 
    
    eyes, her breath caught in her throat, and it was the thing's turn to smile. 
    
    She was quickly composed and placed a hand between them, silently asking for 
    
    what she knew the thing could give her. The thing reached its host's hand 
    
    into the layer of protective covering and brought out the instrument of 
    
    reproduction. The tool to create life would be effectively used to end one. 
    
    The thing smiled and walked with the female being toward the future of 
    
    the thing's race.
    
    *            *            *              *            *
    
    Mulder and Scully walked out of the Russian train station and headed 
    
    toward to city. Mulder shielded his eyes from the light, and looked
    
    around trying to get an approximate location, as to where they should
    
    be heading.
    
    Mulder, not knowing one word of the Russian language, looked to Scully 
    
    for some help. She had been able to find him in the depths of a Russian 
    
    hell, why not maneuver down-town Moscow? Scully stared back at him, she
    
    looked tired and drawn, this excursion had been a breaking point for both 
    
    of them. She reached into her pack and pulled out her Russian/English 
    
    dictionary and proceeded to look up the necessary phrases they would need
    
    for the continuation of their journey.
    
    Mulder scanned the crowd for anyone who could offer assistance in
    
    leading them in the correct direction. A look of confusion crossed
    
    his features as he looked back at his partner and she looked at him
    
    with the same look. They stood there, helpless and neither knowing
    
    what to do next.
    
    Mulder exhaled loudly and looked over to a corner where the street 
    
    turned abruptly and was made into a small alleyway. Then, he saw the
    
    face he had seen on the train. The face he knew all too well. He 
    
    placed a hand on Scully's shoulder to move her out of the way. She
    
    looked at him with questioning concern in her eyes. Scully opened
    
    her mouth to say something, but thought better of it when she caught
    
    the sight of Mulder's attention.
    
    Mulder stared and turned white, by what was before his eyes. He had 
    
    never expected to see her. The pieces of the puzzle now fell into 
    
    place, she had been the face on the train, the one who had been 
    
    following him. She was the key, and Mulder knew she had answers.
    
    *            *                   *                    *
    
    The other walked toward Mulder and his stunned partner, eyes fixed 
    
    straight ahead, the other knew that they saw her. She took time with
    
    her approach, making sure that they had seen her and letting the 
    
    knowledge sink into their heads.
    
    She was still a block away, and as she stopped for a passing car,
    
    she looked straight at Mulder, and she knew that she could perform
    
    the task at hand.
    
    Mulder stared at her with such a shock and a look of utter disbelief 
    
    that the other's ego was boosted with this. The other wore a scowl as
    
    she stared at the woman by Mulder's side. Scully, she had heard Mulder
    
    refer to her as, was small woman and she wore a look of a business
    
    professional, but there was no mistaking the interest and curiosity
    
    in the steely blue gaze. Scully looked over at her partner, whose
    
    attention was rapt with the sight of the other.
    
    The other reached the spot where the man and the woman stood. She 
    
    briefly touched the small syringe, concealed within her pocket, 
    
    for courage and stared at the man, who had by this time composed
    
    himself for the confrontation.
    
    The other nodded in Mulder's direction, "Mulder," she said with no hint 
    
    of feeling in her voice.
    
    Mulder nodded, in confirmation of her acquaintance of him, "Diana," he 
    
    returned.
    
    Midnight in Moscow
    
    Scully surveyed the new arrival. She looked skeptically at the woman, 
    
    then in surprise with Mulder's next words.
    
    "Diana," Mulder said with complete lack of emotion. Scully's mouth 
    
    practically dropped to the ground on which she stood, and she was 
    
    glad Mulder nor the woman had not turned away from each other to 
    
    regard her in this state.
    
    Suspicion dawned on Scully's face. She had never seen the woman 
    
    before, and she didn't know how Mulder could have, either.
    
    "What are you doing here, Fox?" the woman asked as she regarded Mulder, 
    
    like a naughty child who needed punishing. Why would this woman call
    
    Mulder by his first name? How well do they know each other?
    
    "Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing." Mulder responded, with 
    
    his customary dryness. He crossed his arms across the expanse of his
    
    chest to further accent his impatience. "What do you want from me, 
    
    Diana?" He asked, coming to the point.
    
    She laughed a sardonic laugh and made an attempt to roll her eyes, but 
    
    didn't quite make it. "Well, no 'Hi, hello?" With a glance at Scully she 
    
    shifted her gaze back to Mulder. "Are you going to introduce us or just
    
    sit there pouting?" She said a little sarcastically, and Scully could
    
    have sworn that she saw pain in the other woman's eyes.
    
    "Dana Scully, this is Diana Fowley, Diana this is my partner Dana 
    
    Scully." Mulder said, not dropping the impatience from his tone.
    
    Scully looked at the other woman, and smiled at her. The other
    
    woman took her hand and shook it in a friendly gesture.
    
    "Hi," said the other woman, and looked at Scully as if she were a bug 
    
    that needed squashing.
    
    Mulder stood back and let the two women shake hands, then he stepped 
    
    foreword, not saying a word, but waiting for an answer to his question.
    
    Seeing the look Mulder threw her, the other woman responded by crossing 
    
    her own arms. Looking as if she were preparing for an argument and a verbal 
    
    war, Scully mused. 
    
    "I'm serving as escort to Ambassador Thomas." She responded dryly,
    
    letting Mulder take his chances and believe her or not. 
    
    "Now answer me my question," She told him.
    
    Mulder looked at the woman and came up with a convenient lie. "We're 
    
    following up on a lead."
    
    "In Russia?" The woman asked in doubt.
    
    "Where else?" Mulder answered with his dry humor.
    
    Mulder then turned to Scully and motioned for her to head down
    
    the street, "C'mon, Scully we need to find a motel...or something."
    
    He added remembering where he was.
    
    Scully walked ahead of Mulder and left the unknown woman behind.
    
    He ushered and practically pushed her to turn on the next block.
    
    Perturbed by her partner's strange behavior, Scully looked at her
    
    partner and forced her arm out of his grip. She stopped in the middle
    
    of the street and forced Mulder to look at her by pinning him with
    
    a steely gaze.
    
    "So, are you going to tell me what the hell went on, back there?" 
    
    She said raising an eyebrow for emphasis.
    
    Mulder regarded his partner with annoyance and impatience. "It's a long 
    
    story, Scully. I'll tell you later. Now, we need to get out of here."
    
    Mulder's gaze shifted from Scully's face to behind her. Scully was 
    
    still staring at him, wanting and expecting answers to what was an 
    
    undoubtedly confusing confrontation. He looked past her and his eyes
    
    focused on the object behind his partner.
    
    About ten men were gathered at the end of the block, they were marching 
    
    in military fashion and carrying very large, very deadly weapons. Mulder 
    
    doubted if they were even legal. Panic hit Mulder with a start when he 
    
    realized and recognized the leader of the small militia. A small man, bald 
    
    and with glasses. He was, what could be referred to, as the warden of the 
    
    prison camp, where Mulder had spent the last few days being tortured and 
    
    experimented upon.  All of these heinous acts were preformed under the 
    
    orders of this man. The group of men were searching for something, or 
    
    rather, someone, and that someone was him.
    
    The small man saw he and Scully standing at the end of the street and 
    
    ordered one of the closer guards to fire at the two agents. Mulder watched 
    
    the man and stared into his eyes. The man had a Napoleonic ordering system, 
    
    short, but enough power to conquer a empire.
    
    Mulder's FBI training immediately took hold of his motor functions, as 
    
    he pushed Scully to the ground and grabbed the home-made knife that the
    
    prisoner at the camp had given him and held it in front of himself, 
    
    readying to defend himself against these men.
    
    Scully's protestations at being rudely pushed to the ground stopped when
    
    she saw her partner's face. She cast a glance in the direction his knife
    
    was pointing and pulled out her own weapon in response.
    
    The guard who had been ordered to shoot had not yet fired, and the 
    
    crowed which had gathered in the bustle of the Russian mid-day, had 
    
    dispersed with the silent war between a fugitive and a slave driver.
    
    Mulder locked and held gazes with the guard who had the gun pointed 
    
    straight at his head. From this distance, the bullet would do harm
    
    but would probably leave him alive. The guard was young, maybe 18 or
    
    19 in age, his hair was blonde with highlights of something darker,
    
    his face still held the roundness of childhood, and his eyes held the
    
    bright determination and stupidity of a teenage boy.
    
    Mulder wanted to avoid death of any kind, if he could. He had been 
    
    forced by his occupation to kill and wound many men, but not once
    
    did he want to pull that trigger. Ironic, that when your life is
    
    being threatened you think about the lives you have taken. Nonetheless,
    
    if the boy shot at either he or Scully, Mulder would be forced, 
    
    once again, to end another life.
    
    The boy was a soldier and he followed orders.  The sound of the weapon 
    
    being fired resounded off of the many buildings in the area. The bullet 
    
    missed Mulder and entered into the stub of a tree, planted in the middle
    
    of the walk-way. Indignation surged on the boy's features as he saw where
    
    his shot landed and that his target was still very much alive.
    
    He fired another shot, that again came short of it's mark. The young 
    
    soldier regarded his commander to find what he was doing wrong. Scully
    
    fired off one shot and hit the young soldier in the right shoulder,
    
    leaving the boy crying out in pain. The boy dropped to his knees, 
    
    more in shock then in actual pain, he looked at his comrades who had
    
    continued to stand where they stood, watching the scene before them 
    
    with complete detachment. The boy looked at Mulder and tried, once
    
    again, to fire upon him, when an apparent firebrand of pain hit his
    
    shoulder, making him drop the knife he held.
    
    The leader of these soldiers of men was shouting obscenities in 
    
    Russian to the young man. The short, bald man picked up the young 
    
    soldier's disregarded weapon and fired a single shot into the boy's
    
    chest. 
    
    Scully watched this scene with horror and disgust for the man who
    
    would end a boy's life, because he missed a shot. Scully fired on
    
    the leader and hit him in the lower leg. Another loud obscenity
    
    was expelled from the man's mouth and more soldiers were ordered to
    
    fire upon the two agents.
    
    Scully took one last look at the teenage boy whose blood now stained 
    
    the pavement of the Russian street a bright red. His life-less eyes 
    
    registered shock and death. Scully pitied the boy and said a quick
    
    prayer for the boy before Mulder pushed her behind him and started 
    
    running away from the small army of men.
    
    *          *                 *                     *
    
    The other watched the scene, with a look that said 'all had gone along 
    
    with the plan', she looked at the woman who was her lover's partner. She 
    
    hated the woman. Mulder seemed very protective of her, she watched, when
    
    he pushed his small partner down on the ground. Her heart lurched when 
    
    she had witnessed the protective nature of this man and his partner.
    
    She watched as Scully fired upon the soldier who had fired upon Mulder,
    
    she hit the young soldier in the shoulder and the young boy immediately 
    
    collapsed in pain.
    
    The other touched the small syringe hidden within her clothing again. 
    
    Touching it seemed to give her the strength to face what she must do,
    
    to reconcile the fact that she was about to kill her once-lover. 
    
    Seeing the man and woman together now, she felt renewed courage that
    
    she could do the job ahead of her.
    
    The other sensed a presence behind her, and turned with her gun drawn 
    
    toward the sound of footsteps in the darkened alley way. She saw him,
    
    the man she had despised from the moment she had started this assignment.
    
    He was slumped over in a stooping position, he still wore the sling from
    
    their earlier encounter.
    
    The young man smiled when he caught sight of the other and motioned for 
    
    her to place her weapon back in it's holster, where it had originated.
    
    "Diana," the young man said.
    
    "What the hell are you doing here?!" the other said on one breath, 
    
    seeing who it was she was talking to.
    
    "No 'hi', 'hello'?" he mimicked her earlier comment to Mulder.
    
    The other drew her gun telling the young man she was in no mood for his 
    
    games. The young man's face grew serious and his eyes dropped to her
    
    weapon.
    
    "He sent me." He said simply.
    
    "Well, it seems we will have to be working together, just don't let that 
    
    happen, again." She said with a touch of malice and a glance at his lower 
    
    left arm, which was hidden by the sling and the young man's shirt and 
    
    jacket.
    
    The young man regarded the woman with disgust and followed her gaze to 
    
    where his arm rested in the sling. 
    
    "Don't worry, you'll keep all of your body parts." The man said glancing
    
    at the woman's chest.
    
    Catching the man's glance she smiled, "Don't think about it, prosthetics
    
    don't do it for me."
    
    The young man and the other watched the scene in front of them, the 
    
    commander had been crippled and one soldier was dead, everything was
    
    in chaos for the two agents, and yet, everything was going as planned.
    
    _____________________________________________________________________________________________
    
    Midnight in Moscow
    
    They ran, desperate and hopeless. They ran, faster and faster. Mulder
    
    heard the vain shots and yells of the men behind him. His shoulder 
    
    felt a new explosion of pain at each step. Escape, they had to escape.
    
    Headlong, not knowing where they were going, he ran. His hand held 
    
    frantically to Scully's. He knew as long as he held her, there was a
    
    chance.
    
    A shot zinged through the air, it nearly missed his head. The soldiers 
    
    after them, were frantic, they needed him alive, the needed him to 
    
    continue the tests. They had to have him.
    
    Scully slowed down and tried to get off a few rounds at the soldiers 
    
    following them, she missed with her first two shots and another bullet 
    
    landed in the leg of an unfortunate soldier. She heard his cry of pain 
    
    and winced. Mulder should not be moving, but they had to move, they had 
    
    to get out. She saw the fresh blood seeping from the wound in his 
    
    shoulder, he couldn't keep this up for long. She knew he had to be 
    
    exhausted, the sleep on the train was only a short respite for his 
    
    tortured body.
    
    They ran through dark alleys, through small passages. Escape was the 
    
    only thought. Scully thought she had seen Alex Krycek before the gunfire, 
    
    standing next to the woman Mulder had called Diana. She could only 
    
    assume he was behind this, that it was orchestrated and planned.
    
    Krycek was the man Mulder had trusted with his life, now that life was 
    
    in jeopardy and Scully would never forgive him if that life ended.
    
    Mulder and Scully turned a sharp corner leading to a small alleyway. 
    
    Scully heard the sound of men drinking and music playing, but she no 
    
    longer heard the footsteps of the men behind her, but she knew they had 
    
    to be there. They were following them, everyone was following them.
    
    "Mulder, you have to rest."
    
    He looked at her as if to say 'yeah right.'
    
    Then, without warning Mulder's knees buckled. Scully saw the pain on 
    
    his face. He was loosing too much blood. Scully lay him down on the 
    
    ground. They sat bolt upright when the sounds of men came to their 
    
    attention. Mulder gathered enough strength to sit up and slip into 
    
    the darkness, Scully stood along the wall. The Russian soldiers ran 
    
    down the alley. Scully held her breath, and Mulder muffled his cry of 
    
    pain.
    
    Scully looked down at her partner, and pulled a shirt from her pack and 
    
    gave it to him to bite on. The soldiers, still peering in the alleyway 
    
    had decided that there was nothing down the alley and had continued to 
    
    chase to two renegades. Mulder knew they would be back, there was no 
    
    way they could hide.
    
    Scully kept peering down the small alley, making sure the soldiers had 
    
    left them behind.
    
    "Don't look, Scully, they'll come back. You have to get out of here."
    
    Scully gave her partner a sharp look. "We, Mulder, we have to get out 
    
    of here, and we will get out of here." She bent down and started 
    
    inspecting the wound on his shoulder. It was very bad, indeed. The bullet 
    
    was still in the shoulder and the scapula was completely shattered. 
    
    Mulder's labored breathing, seemed to indicate that one of the fragments 
    
    had punctured his lung. The blood was still flowing, and now completely 
    
    stained the gray prison uniform he wore. Even as she said the reassuring 
    
    words, Scully knew that she was going to loose her partner. Mulder seemed 
    
    to know this as well.
    
    Mulder gave a faint smile, but the task of running through the streets, 
    
    had enervated him past what his body could handle. His blood mixed with 
    
    the fresh rain in the street. Scully took the shirt from his mouth and 
    
    ripped it apart, tying the pieces of cloth around the free-flowing wound. 
    
    She felt the Mulder's strength being sapped from his body. 
    
    "You're going to make it, Mulder. Do you hear me? You're going to make 
    
    it. You're going to live. You have to get me through this. Mulder, you 
    
    are the X-Files, if you go then it goes. You cannot leave, not yet. You 
    
    have too much work to do. You are going to make it through this." As 
    
    she spoke, tears formed in her eyes, she grew angry.
    
    "Scully, listen to me. It's over, but you can save me. You can save us 
    
    all, get on that plane, Scully. You have to go. Get on that flight, 
    
    leave this place and when you save the X-Files, I can live again. I 
    
    will live again."
    
    "No! Mulder, you are coming with me, you will come with me. The X-Files 
    
    is your crusade. This can't happen, not without you."
    
    "Listen. I'm sorry, Scully. I'm sorry I can't be there. You have to do 
    
    this for us, Scully. I'm sorry, I had a job to do, I never meant to fall 
    
    in love with you. I didn't want it. I knew it would ruin us, but please, 
    
    Scully. Do this for us. You have to do this. Go, Scully, go!"
    
    "No, Mulder. I won't, I can't!"
    
    "Go, Scully, leave!"
    
    Scully looked down at her partner, then as if under a compulsion, she 
    
    stood. Her eyes brimming with tears. She couldn't do it. She bent down 
    
    and kissed him feverishly, hungrily. She tasted his blood, her tears 
    
    fell onto his face and trailed down his cheeks. He held her to him, he 
    
    couldn't let her go, but she had to. He pushed her away from him.
    
    "I love you, Scully. Go!"
    
    Scully stood and ran, she ran without a thought in her mind. She ran 
    
    without seeing, without hearing. She ran, and not once did she look 
    
    back.
    
    *                  *                    *         *
    
    After a night of searching, she found him. The other looked down at 
    
    his body, mottled with blood. He was gone. Her heart felt heavy and 
    
    tears ran unchecked down her cheeks. She angrily wiped them away. 
    
    She pushed her hand inside her coat and felt the syringe, she took 
    
    it out. She approached the body. Rigor mortis had already set in, 
    
    setting his features in a permanent state of pain. He died slowly, 
    
    and painfully. She placed the syringe into his arm, and injected the 
    
    amber fluid. Almost instantly, the oil came out of him, it slithered 
    
    from its host and came to a pool on the ground. There is died. Her 
    
    lover was no longer the subject of alien invasion. She had saved him, 
    
    and he had saved the world.
    
    *            *           *            *             *
    
    Washington D.C.
    
    Sentate Committee Hearing
    
    2:43 pm
    
    "I, Dana Scully, swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing 
    
    but the truth."
    
    The small woman's words resounded through the hall. The men sitting 
    
    before her, were prepared to pass judgment on her. They decided her 
    
    fate, her will.
    
    "If I many, I have a prepared statement I'd like to read."
    
    "Please do, Agent Scully."
    
    "This committee came to together with one purpose, to bring justice. 
    
    I have vowed to carry out that justice. But in regards to the X-Files 
    
    justice can never be served. One man, held the key to everything in 
    
    those files. Everything he fought for is now vain. For this one man, 
    
    was the hero, this man whom you have deemed a criminal from the law, 
    
    was the one person who always strived to uphold it. This man, who 
    
    fought for the truth, deserves the gratitude of every person here…"
    
    "Thank you Miss Scully…"
    
    "If you may, sir, I am not finished."
    
    "We are only interested in one thing, here, Miss Scully. One thing 
    
    which you have repeatedly refused to answer. Where is Agent Mulder?"
    
    Scully paused, she had to hold it together, she would not break down, 
    
    not now.
    
    "Agent Mulder, searched for the truth. But now he can't. He can't 
    
    because this committee never even tried to bring the true murderers 
    
    to justice, and in that way you are all responsible. Agent Mulder is 
    
    dead. Now, only I can find that truth. Now, you are my enemy, and I 
    
    will make it known to everyone that you twelve men are the murderers, 
    
    liars, and deceivers. Mulder's quest is now mine. The X-Files will 
    
    live on, and so will Mulder."
    
    *           *           *                *               *
    
    The man sat back in his chair, stunned by what the young woman had 
    
    just said. He was dead, now his quest has become her crusade. She 
    
    is right, he will live. He will live forever.
    
    ************THE END*************************


End file.
